- Joined
- Oct 20, 2000
- Messages
- 4,453
Sometimes when I scrutinised a well-made knife, certain thoughts sprang up. I wondered how many times did the maker put the blade through the grinder or the various belts to produce the even and almost perfect grind.
When I touched the handle, I asked myself how many hours did he polish the wooden handle to bring it to shine and maybe even sparkle.
I sometimes think of the long hours that he spends in his workshop that often drag far deep into the night. I visualise the quiet, maybe even untidy workshop in which he continues to work when all members of his family are fast asleep. He toils with a burning desire to finish something that is a matter of pride for him.
I "see" the frustration on his face when he couldn't achieve the results he wants. Maybe he sits down for a quiet smoke as he takes a breather before he continues on his quest or maybe just to finish his quota of knives for the day.
His customers probably won't understand the kind of day he had or the schedules he got to keep outside his workshop.
His hands may sometimes tremble after long hours and enormous effort exerted during the course of the day.
I try my best to visualise those unseen hands that shape the knife, and perhaps I try to picture a face as well. But it's the hands that I see when I handle the knife.
Thus, I hope I can better appreciate the man whose hands have touched the blade and brought it to my satisfaction.
When I touched the handle, I asked myself how many hours did he polish the wooden handle to bring it to shine and maybe even sparkle.
I sometimes think of the long hours that he spends in his workshop that often drag far deep into the night. I visualise the quiet, maybe even untidy workshop in which he continues to work when all members of his family are fast asleep. He toils with a burning desire to finish something that is a matter of pride for him.
I "see" the frustration on his face when he couldn't achieve the results he wants. Maybe he sits down for a quiet smoke as he takes a breather before he continues on his quest or maybe just to finish his quota of knives for the day.
His customers probably won't understand the kind of day he had or the schedules he got to keep outside his workshop.
His hands may sometimes tremble after long hours and enormous effort exerted during the course of the day.
I try my best to visualise those unseen hands that shape the knife, and perhaps I try to picture a face as well. But it's the hands that I see when I handle the knife.
Thus, I hope I can better appreciate the man whose hands have touched the blade and brought it to my satisfaction.
